Page 81 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“Meteorology says sometime between midnight and dawn. But you know how reliable weather forecasts are in the mountains.” Chief’s expression was grim. “Could be sooner, could be later. Might blow on by. Point is, we’re on high alert.”

I glanced around the room, taking in the faces of my crew. Some looked eager, the adrenaline junkies who lived for nights like this. Others looked appropriately concerned. Janna’s face was unreadable, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Any questions?” Chief asked.

Silence.

“Good. Dismissed. And remember—no one leaves the base.”

As people started to file out, I caught Janna’s eye. She gave me the slightest nod. I knew we were both thinking about the conversation where I’d told her we couldn’t be more than lovers. Did she care about me? She didn’t say it, but I felt it.

Janna disappeared and I was left standing there thinking about how I was going to pass the day without being around her. Or thinking about her. It felt like we were trapped in a box. Yes, the complex was huge, and we wouldn’t have to be in the same area, but it just felt so incredibly difficult to be around her but not be near her.

I decided to head out to check on my plane. It was running fine but there was always something to tinker with. As soon as I walked into the hangar, the cat was there. I groaned. I thought it had moved along when I didn’t see it yesterday.

It was lying in a corner and somehow seemed to sense when I walked in. It got up, stretched, and sauntered over. The damn thing was intent on embarrassing me. People were going to start thinking I was soft.

“Max,” I muttered when the cat rubbed its body across my leg. Max was what Janna called the damn thing.

“Thought it wasn’t your cat,” Pickle said as he walked in behind me.

“It’s not.”

“It looks better,” he said. “What did you name him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Liar.” He chuckled.

I sighed. “Janna calls him Max.”

He chuckled. “Well, Max looks like he’s finally getting some real meals.”

“It’s not me,” I said. “I mean, not only me.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You ever date someone you worked with?” he asked casually.

Guilt ran through me. But I wasn’t about to admit to anything. He couldn’t know. Janna wouldn’t tell him. We agreed to keep it our secret.

I forced a laugh. “That’s a weird question.”

Pickle shrugged, hands stuffed in pockets. I noticed his gaze going out the hangar doors. I followed his gaze, and fuck me, Laser and Janna had dragged over some chairs and were both dressed in shorts and tanks. Their legs were stretched out and their heads were back with sunglasses on.

I tensed.

A pang of something—jealousy, protectiveness—spiked through me. It felt like a test, and I did not fail. I was the one who had insisted on keeping things casual. Did that mean she might fuck other people? Because I wouldn’t allow it.

Fuck that.

I swallowed and forced the words out. “I don’t know if you’re Janna’s type.”

Pickle cocked his head. “No shit. I’m talking about Laser.”

I froze. “Oh, you’re ready to admit it now?”

“I know she just ended things with Wild Bill, but what do you think?”

I felt my jealousy drop. My reaction said all I needed to know about what happened. Was it possible to keep the situation with Janna from getting serious? Was it already too late?